I didn't get more than three hours of sleep last. And, having just gotten off of work from the movie house with my bar gig to go to this evening, I should
be asleep. Or, actually, I should be resting my eyes because that's probably all I could manage at this time of the afternoon.
For some reason, I am currently reminded of what people here on the East Coast affectionately call my home state. Mind you, I had no knowledge of this particular pet name until leaving CA and landing in NYC. For those of you who don't know, and, really, I suspect that I may be the only CA transplant who doesn't, let me give you a hint: LL Cool J. (Thanks, LL, you douche.)
If I had a nickel for every time I've heard from someone say, "Oh, you're from Cali?" I'd be able to buy a lot of Kit-kat bars right about now. It's like I'm from some Southeast Asian island nation with a population of just under 200,000. Where the eff is Cali? Is that just next to Nevadi and below Oregoni?
I'm mean, it's like finding out someone is from Shreveport, LA and responding with, "Oh, you're from Weeziana?" WTF? Why abbreviate a state's name like that?
So as not to offend NYers more than I already have since relocating here just a little over one year ago, I don't say anything when people call it "Cali" unless, of course, I think that they might be interested in knowing what natives actually call their state. If not, then I keep my lip buttoned. -don't want to be known as that "bitch from Cali".
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